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Visar Falmaien

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About Visar Falmaien

  • Birthday 12/23/1985

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    Writing, bow and arrow making, archery, history, martial arts, sword fighting
  1. Visar was relieved to hear Tywin talk; he'd be ok. The lad was made of tough stuff. Visar listened for the most part, sipping at his own wine. It was good to be out of the cold. Visar considered the move. "It's an old folk wrestling trick, older than Hawkwing i'm sure, though nobody teaches those anymore. If someone's bearing down on you, using their own momentum against them is often the best thing, especially for smaller men like us. And of course, there are counters to just about everything, but the counter to this one is, at best, rather messy. Dangerous to practice, and it leaves you on the ground and vulnerable anyway. Best advice: don't charge someone like a buffalo," he said with a smile and a pat on Tywin's back. "Well you look like you're picking up everything just fine; keep practicing and allow yourself to take it easy when you can, it's too easy to burn out with this training. Let's head back once we're finished. We'll resume tomorrow, only this time i want you to focus on defense. I'll be the hunter for a while," Visar had a feeling that was going to be fun.
  2. Visar stood, and cursed to himself; the water was cold enough for anyone to catch a chill, and he may have just sent a trainee straight for te river! He went closer, his mind racing to remember the next few exits where he might pull Tywin out. He was relieved to see that Tywin had not been swept away; if it was in spring with the water level higher, he most certainly would have. Visar went over to help, though the drenched trainee got out entirely by himself. Visar handed him the knives he had dropped, and was glad the trainee didn't choose that timing for a cheap shot. He helped him to his feet and unclasped his cloak from his back. Tywin stood, seemingly waiting for what the lesson was, but Visar had other priorities first. His pupil was learning a lot and probably needed some encouragmement. "Almost got me, that was close," he said with a somewhat tight grin. Visar left the fact that he had almost endangered the other man's life unsaid. He couldn't talk about it then. Better for the trainee to think everything had been under control. "Come with me, let's get you warm and dry. We can talk later. First thing is to make sure you're well. Training will resume only when you're feeling better." Ignoring the fact that tywin's pride might make him protest, Visar put his cloak on Tywin so he had something between his wet clothes and the river breeze which could cut like a knife, and guided him back to the nearest inn. There he sent a messenger boy, or a stable boy he paid generously for the task, back to the Tower to get some dry clothes. In the meantime, Visar ordered dinner and hot mulled wine for the two of them. "We can stay the night here if you wish. It's not getting any warmer out there, and it's a long walk back. How are you feeling?" Visar asked as they were given their food and drink. He had a feeling criticism would be very poorly timed right now; if Tywin was anything like Visar had beem when he started training, he knew that most of them were their own worst critics. Visar had only within the last year gone easier on himself in that regard, but it was a hard habit to break. He sat and listened to Tywin talk, offering feedback when needed.
  3. Visar ran down an alley, even though his survival instincts told him to keep going. It was too cold for a long extended run anyway, and most people running from death would panic at one point or another. He heard a faint sound behind him, kept going. Tywin would be in hot pursuit, the young man was determined and clever enough to track him. He was fast, too! Visar still had some tricks up his sleeve, however. He knew this area well; for most people this would be a dead end, but he knew of an escape. The drainage tunnel, which led into the sewer labrynth, had a sizeable opening that was hard to see in the dimlit street. It was large enough for a man to jump into, as long as he didn't mind getting wet. But this time of year, the water would be dangerously cold, and that was hardly something Visar wanted to go through. There were a few openings along the sewer line to get out of. Was it worth the risk? Visar had no time to decide as Tywin rushed at him from behind. Visar reacted on instinct, turning and deflecting the blade. Even so, he felt a light impact; if it were sharp he would have been wounded, but likely would have lived. He turned, twisting his hand to grip Tywin's wrist. Another blur of motion, and Visar thanked his luck he had only engaged one hand to the fight. The clever trainee had two knives! Visar grinned and deflected the other one and grabbing the weapon arm. They froze for half a moment, discovering they were both in a bind: Tywin was struggling to get his arms free and hit Visar; Visar was trying to control Tywin's arms. They strugled like wrestlers for a few moments, trying to read what the other was doing by feel alone, since it was too dark to see. Visar's arms were likely getting 'cut' by the knives but in the heat of the fight he couldn't tell. Then Visar felt Tywin push him. Instead of pushing back, Against the real threat, Visar did the unexpected and pulled, dropping his weight at the same time as if sitting down sharply. Pulling Tywin over him, Visar kicked out with both feet as he rolled, hurling the trainee backwards over him in a stomach throw, aiming straight for the sewer opening, its dark, freezing waters rushing by. -Visar, care for some hypothermia? :p
  4. (Ooc: no worries this should be fun!) It was another night of the game. After a botched first attempt, Tywin had slowed down his approach, and apparently was trying to network among many of the inns and taverns Visar frequented. Visar, with his short stature and dark skin, normally stood out in the xity, but with the cold winds blowing incessantly from the north, it was easier to hide in the streets during the day. Which meant that when he went inside at night to try to stay warm--Visar loved many things about Tar Valon but its harsh winters were not one of them---the plucky trainee was sometimes not far behind. Lost in thoght again, Visar did not notice Tywin coming in, but he did get suspicious when he heard artificial sounding laughter from one of the barkeeps. His first thought was that someone needed a speaking to about how to treat a woman; and then he recognized Tywin's form. He quickly glanced away. He had found him already, but with the crowd--Visar wasn't the only one trying to stay warm--it woukd be difficult for Tywin to get to him. That gave him time to think and time to finish his cider. Then, slowly, he put the money down on tye table, and got up to leave. Once he was out the door, Visar began to run through the streets, going for the safety of dark alleyways to hide. Exactly how a hunted man would behave; to try to ecape first, and act in fear. Inwardly Visar wondered how Tywin would handle this, as before he had tried to attack him openly with a whole inn watching. They hadn't known it was just for training; that had been tricky to get out of. Tonight it was a brand new scenario. -Visar, running from the 'assassin'
  5. Visar frowned, lost in thought next to a training weapon rack. He was interrupted from his random reverie by someone right behind him, whom he had not noticed sneak uo behind him. Concealing his annoyance that he was letting his guard down, he turned around. "Master Kynwric? I was instructed to come see you." Visar blinked for a moment, now confused. He shook his head, finding the situation strangely awkward but also not a little humorous. "Master Kynwric? No, I'm Visar Falmaien, but i'm flattered you confused me with him," he said with a smile. "I trained under him myself; you could not ask for a better teacher. Now where was he..." He scanned the yards for Kynwric, and soon found him, sparring with another warder. The warder was having trouble and was already winded. Sword and shield was a tiring fight, and required patience that this warder, and Visar too, rarely possesed. Visar walked the trainee over. "Come with me trainee, and i'll show you to master Kynwric. It appears as if he's just finishing up with his last victim," visar observed.sure enough, Kynwric thrashed the other warder to the ground with a decisive shield bash. The man went shakily to his feet, bowed to the blademaster, and then limped off to the infirmary to tend to his many wounds. Kynwric looked over at them, cam Visar grimaced, and the wince turned into one of sympathy to the trainee. Visar knew Kynwric to be an excellent teacher, and always in control--Visar had never been seriously injured fighting him--, but that almost made him more frightening to fight. That said, he was one of the best. Whoever this trainee was, he probably already showed potential if he was requested personally by Kynwric. "The Light preserve you, lad," Visar whispered. "Kynwric Gaiden, this trainee here at your request. Goood luck trainee," he said louder and with what he hoped was a more reassuring smile. He turned and walked away, trying to remember what he had been thinking of earlier. -Visar, one post siliness :p
  6. Visar frowned as she offered him a very strong smelling drink. What a strange name; it was surely foreign, but was it from Shara or the Waste? He looked atthe glass with a mix of curiosity and anxiety. He hazarded a sip, and shuddered as it burned down his throat. Yet though it tasted horribly like dry wood and campfire smoke, it warmed his insides in a strangely comforting way. He looked at the new Master at Arma with newfound respect, to be able to handle such a potent drink with such calm. He thought more to the matter at hand, their spar. It should require a display of skill, and be a fair fight, regardless of her advice to name something to his advantage. What would be the fun in that? "Best seven of thirteen exchanges," Visar suggested, giving them plenty of time to gauge their skills and remove chance a little from the equation. It would also require considerable endurance. "Each exchange ends only with a clear hit to the victor, without a double kill or afterblow. Othereise we reset without a 'dirty' exchange counting." That would require both fighters to fight properly; Visar remembered his spar for his heron-mark sword went quite differently, turning into a brawl with plenty of cheap shots and double hits. "Blunt steel, weapon of choice," he added, having no desire for the contest to end accidentally in a death or maiming injury; the Yards needed them both intact at the end. "Penalty of one hundred silver marks for injuring the opponent so that they cannot continue," that would provide him incentive to control his hits, if indeed any of his connected. They would continue shortnof a serious injury though, mainly out of pride. All in all, he felt as he sipped the "ooskway", he was probably dooming himself to be humiliated in public. But a clean, technical fight was just what he needed for the challenge, for that was where skill and mastery could be determined. And it took courage to fight a master on terms that were more favorable for a veteran. And with two blademasters, it would look incredible to those watching, which would hopefully accomplish Kilrin's desire for providing a good example. "Are these terms acceptable to you?" He asked after a sip, trying to remain calm. Light, what was he thinking?
  7. Visar listened to Tywin's misgivings about his assignment, and while part of him had the urge to laugh at the lad, he thought of how that might come across, and satisfied himself with a warm smile. Tywin was afraid, but that did not make him a coward; it just meant he had normal feelings and emotions. "Tywin, the Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, but i cannot help believe we have command over the choices we do have. I cannot say what your path will be, that will be for you to find for yourself. I am not training you to become an assassin. I am training you to defend, protect against, and defeat darkfriends and other villains, assassins or merely armed thugs. Anyone, even children and women,have knives on them, and can kill even the finest warrior if they are caught off guard. You have to be alert and prepared for anything if you're to serve a Aes Sedai as a Warder, and learn how to see threats, how to avoid fights when possible. And to do that, you must understand your enemy, and learn how to think like him. Stealth, caution, good timing, discretion, cunning: you will need all these things, and it is up to you how to know when to use these skills; for the wellbeing of others or to harm them for your own gain." Visar paused for a while, deep in thought about morality, his choice to become a Warder, and whether or not he was making a good impression on this warrior. He allowed Tywin to respond, then continued "Every day we train from here on, i will teach you through drills and sparring how to use a dagger or knife, and how to defend with or without one. When you are done with your structured training, feel free to seek me out here or in town and we can play our hunting game, for as long as you find use in the experience. If you feel like it's wrong for you, then you can stop; I won't force you to do something that your heart says is wrong. What do you say?" Visar asked, inwardly eager for the challenge himself.
  8. Visar nodded at his question, and almost relaxed too much, as the trainee sprang a surprise attack. This one was bold and learned quickly: good! Visar'a training was to always focus on the hand holding the knife, and if he could not see the hand, he assumed there might be a weapon concealed. The attack came, and clevely, as Tywin punched out just as Visar deflected the thrust and grabbed a hold of the arm. Visar brought his hand up palm out to stop the punch, then decided not to block and went for the knife instead. He had a feelong Tywing would be surprised his punch landed. Visar felt himself grin even as he absorbed the pain by rolling his head back a little. His muscle memory did not fail to do the rest. Two seconds later he had disarmed Tywin again, stolen the knife, and struck twice, once to slice Tywin's wrist of his extended arm, and twice to stab him in the gut. Visar stretched his jaw; it stung from the punch, but it had not distracted him from the real threat, and if these had been sharp "A fine move, but it does not follow the most imortant rule: always seek control of the knife, whether it's in your hands or an enemy's. Seek control first, either by keeping me from stabbing or cutting you repeatedly, then you can do whatever followup move you like. Now, there are smart knifemen, and i already count you among that number, who will figure out how to conceal the blade they need for the occasion, ambush you without warning, and feint or hit you with their offhand leading. Even I have no perfect defense against an assassin, despite years of training. You have no guarantee of survival, and make no mistake, if you are attacked with a knife, you will probably get cut." Visar paused for a moment, letting that sink in, then casually pulled his own training knife from where it was hidden under his shirt, and gave Tywin a low thrust to defend against. This time the trainee caught on and defended. Visar showed him how to take the knife from his grip, even though it was strong, and they established a drill; they would share a knife, and whoever held the blade was the attacker, and whoever did not was to defend and then take the blade. Visar conversed casually as he did this; he had done this drill so many times he could probably do it in his sleep. It was good to learn the basics. "Fortunately for you and me, there are a lot of wool-brained idiots out there who will give you ample warning and a predictable attack; when someone is angry and wants to kill you with a knife, they will do so without subtlety. You will learn how to defend against this, and there will be many drills like this, and many more bruises for each mistake, each failure to defend yourself and gain control." visar could feel Tywin already testing him, trying to figure out how to counter the counters without knowing the basics first. Visar called a halt,thinking of another strategy. "We could drill for hours and months, and we will so you can learn the techniques. But only you can learn how to apply them. I want, in additin to our regular sessions, for you to take an assignment. Think of it like a game of tag of you will. You may use any training knife so long as it is dull enough. Your task: to 'kill' me when i'm out and about the city or the grounds. Only the yards themelves are exempt. During this time you will have a pass from me to see the city. You are to use your street smarts, find me, and get me with that training knife however you can. Then when you succeed, we switch places, and you have to defend yourself. You may run if i give you an out, and i will as well if you let me." Visar quickly scrawled a note which would give Tywin a pass into the city for 'training purposes', and handed it to him. "You begin whenever you feel ready," Visar said with a smile.
  9. (Ooc: you're doing just fine, nothing too complicated about knifework; hopefully my responses are not too moddy, if they are i will cyange them; just let me know what you want to do/done) Visar took note of the young man's stance. He was of similar height but wiry thin, about the build Visar had been when he was just starting as a trainee; he had widened out a bit since then. This man was going to be a challenge, as he already looked like he had seen a few knife fights, and he had the perfect build for a daggerman. Now to gauge his skill.. Visar observed that there was nothing wrong with Tywin's stance, the left arm could cover if need be and the right would fight; it was balanced for defense and offense. He saw hesitation in the man's attack though, as if he was unsure whether to commit his strike or feint. Visar took well advantage of that, as he had plenty of time to react to try something fancy. He shifted his upper body to the side, slapping in his hand to deflect Tywin's wrist, and the dagger connected to it, harmlessly to the side. In the same motion, Visar obtained a vice-like grip on the lad's wrist with his left hand, and using his other hand to grab the blade, he wrenched it out of Tywin's grip with a well-practiced twisting motion. As long as the blade didn't slide on his hand, Visar knew, he would not likely be cut at all, or at worst just a small scratch. Visar did not wait for any reaction from Tywin, who was likely surprised to be disarmed so easily, and instantly flowed to tye next technique; the fight wasn't over once you disarmed someone. He kept the dagger in his right hand, and twisting Tywin's wrist again, he ducked under the now outstretched arm to Tywin's right to avoid a kick or punch. He undercut Tywin with his shoulder, causing the yong man to lift slightly off the ground. Visar stepped with his right foot to behind Tywin's knee, and kicked up with his heel while twisting his upper body to the left. The combined motion landed Tywin unceremoniously on his back. Visar was still not done, as he still had a strong hold on the offending wrist. Twisting it again for good measure, Visar sank his knee on Tywin's arm to pin it, shifted the knife so that he held it properly by the hilt, and stabbed down to hit Tywin in the chest. The whole sequence took less than three seconds. "And you are dead," Visar announced gravely before helping Tywin back up to his feet. He explained Tywin's actions; all of them good, but could be tweaked to be more dangerous. He smiled warmly and disarmingly. "A good attack, Tywin, but I saw it coming a hundred paces away. Most knife attacks, you don't see the knife before it strikes for you. Your stance was more defensive and your attack slower because it did not have your full strength behind it." While he was expaining, Visar subtly shifted the training knife behind his back, as he moved slowly closer to Tywin. You had to be close, the closer the better, to give your victim less time to react. "Come, i'll show you what I--" Visar put his hand on Tywin's shoulder, as if he was letting him in on a good secret. Then without warning, he shoved Tywin's shoulder to expose his side and get him off balance, and rammed the training blade towards his lower side before he was finished speaking. "Mean," Visar finished grimly. -Visar, being mean :p
  10. As part of the program Master Kilrin had decided on to boost morale and improve training, Visar had a few trainees and guards he was goong to coach. Group classes were more efficient to train a large group of people, but the dropout rate was extreme, and the Guard needed more members. It was either change the way you trained, or lower the standards, and neither Visar nor Kilrin would have the latter spoken about with broken teeth to the offender. If they were lucky. Instead, the weed out started right away; if trainees could not pass the fitness courses, which under Kilrin's supervision had become a real gauntlet of pain and misery, they usually went home on their own, and that freed up guardsmen and warders to teach those that had already survived their firstnfew weeks. Visar glanced at his list, a much crumpled up piece of paper that was becoming more difficult to read. He had to help three trainees with the sword, two others with staff or spear, and only one that was interested in the dagger. How strange, that with a weapon warders wouls face more than any other, and had killed many of Visar's friends when he was growing up in Tear, that so few warders trained to use or defend against? It didn't make sense. But then again, the bruises, dislocated joints, and broken bones, not to mention the frequent humiliation of being tossed onto the ground over and over again. . .it certainly was not as dignified and heroic as the sword or the bow. He finished giving the other trainees their preparatory assignments, and that left the last, and hopefully best, trainee for last. He circled the training yard casually, not knowing who "tie-win" was. Finally he gave up guessing who it was and realized he was putting things off again. Not much for it but to shout, "Trainee Tywin! You get your bloody Warty behind over here this instance!" He yelled in the angriest voice he could muster. It was always easy to get angry about something. Taking it out on trainees was cathartic, even if Visar felt a little guilty for making these poor lads and girls' lives any worse. He knew how hard it was, and he suspected things were easier with the previous Master at Arms around. A young man, already sweating from his morning's exercises, ran up, looking somewhat bewildered. He presented himself bravely. "Trainee, you may call me Visar Gaiden. I'm to instruct you in some knife work. First, i need to see what you already know. Try to kill me." Visar tossed a blunt metal training knife, the blade almost as long as a forearm, at Tywin's feet. It was thick and bulky, and made deep purple bruises when it found its mark, but was enough like a real knife to train realistically without risk of lethal injury. Visar cupped his hands at his breast, a good position to defend against any attack but not appear very defensive, and waited unarmed, a silent challenge. -Visar Falmaien, come on show me what you got :)
  11. Visar nodded and listened as Kathleen spoke. She didn't trust him, but that was to be expected. And he did deserve her anger, so he resolved to try to do better, and do what he could to heal tye damage he had done. He wished the Aes Sedai good night and returned to his guest bed. He was asleep in moments. The next day started bright and early, and Visar felt like a new man. He was still nervous about ruining things, but if he was patient, laid low for a while, and earned their trust again, if possible, things might be better on the journey back. He joined the delegation as they went to a meeting with the new Lord Hargrave. The council chamber was well guarded, fortified, and all the mess from the other day was already cleaned up. Visar looked at the young man, seeing in him a strength of character he rarely saw in warders. He was impressed that a young man who had just lost his father could be holding up so well. Leadership was natural to him, Visar supposed, yet in the man's strength he saw vulnerability too, and emotions difficult to conceal. Visar wondered if there was something he could learn from this brave young man. He gave the lord a respectful salute and a "good morning, lord Hargrave," as he went to take his station behind the seated Aes Sedai. -Visar, laying low
  12. The wind shifted to the west, and Torvus adjusted his aim a little to compensate. The weight of his crossbow was starting to strain his arms, but it was less strenuous than trying to pull a heavy horsebow, which was awkward on the best of days. Torvus's bow, the one he could shoot while strapping his right hand to the grip, was nearby but he decided not to use it today, as he had a horrible grouping of bruises on his arms from a brawl and they still smarted. He was at the long range today, wanting to be away from the trainees shooting at close butts at the Tower complex. He didn't know which annoyed him more, their ineptitude or the ones that were already better archers with half the training. There, steady, raise the tip just a bit... Torvus eyed the gap between his bolt and the hay-stuffed target, some two-hundred fifty paces away. He was lost in concentration, so deep in the void he did not see anyone approach. He realized he'd been holding his breath, and slowly exhaled, gently squeezed the trigger. The bolt hurled from the crossbow, shaking his sore ribs with recoil. He saw the quarrel speed away, the leather vanes stabilizing the flight. It was good... It was good... Oh wait... "Blood and Ashes!" Torvus swore, as the bolt missed the target, falling just three handbreadths to the left. The bolt disappeared into the grass, which had not been cut for a while. It was not going to be easy to find that one. The Void was shattered and he felt frustrated and not a little angry. That was eight misses out of ten shots! Setting his bow down, Torvus stomped off to where he thought the bolt had fallen. He knew from experience that if he waited, he would never find it. As he searched the ground, Torvus wondered why he had missed again. Was his form that bad? No, he consoled himself. It must have been the wind. It was ticky today, that was all. He searched for a while, then gave up, and marched the long way back to his bow. He would probably find it whenever it was too rusty to use. On his way back he felt a twinge of nostalgia and bitterness. His father had first taught him the bow. His father, who could shoot at three hundred paces with a horsebow, a hundred pound draw at least, on horseback, and empty his quiver in only a couple of minutes! Torvus would never be as good as his father, especially since the accident ruinednthe grip of his right hand, but that didnt stop him from trying. Torvus loaded another bolt, winding the crannequin device he had made for this heavy crossbow. It could pierce throug armor at close range, but hitting anyone at past a hundred paces was proving difficult. He sighed, let himself sink slowly back into the void, and tried again. He was just about to make the shot, with an instinctive feeling that this time he would hit the mark, when he heard someone approach. "What now?" He muttered, and he put the bow down. This had better be important! (Anyone want to join? No idea where this thread might go)
  13. One of the bouncers managed to clip him upside tye head, so Torvus's ability to hold his own in the brawl quickly vanished, as did amy ability for the alcohol to deaden any of the pain from his bruises and breaks. Torvus went down in the heap of confusion, having difficulty rising. He missed most of the particulars of the last part of the fight, and his vision was blurred. His head hurt a Lot. Funny, he thought, i hadn't had That much to drink! A man helped him up by the shirt. How kind of him! "Why thangkyoo-oof!" He started to say, but was rudely interrupted by a fist to the ribs, belonging to the same person who helped him up. "Now wait a minute, why did you d'Oof!" The second punch was much harder and knocked the wind out of him. Torvus's knees buckled and he stumbled forward, his head hitting Grey's forehead and they both went down to the floor from the impact. He hugged himself on the ground, trying to breath. He blacked out for a minute and came to the sound of laughter. Where's the joke? He wondered, and saw the man he'd been fighting drinking a bottle of whiskey, laughing in between forceful swallows. Come to think of it, he thought as he stumbled to his feet, this whole situation was rather absurd! Where was something to drink? The bouncers were knocked out; the tavern was all but deserted. No doubt the tavernkeep had run for reinforcements, but this did not worry Torvus at all. He found a bottle of something one of the fleeing guests had left, and claimed it as his own. He choked on the first draught, and then could not help but start laughing too!
  14. Visar Falmaien relaxed visibly when it was apparent that he was not in dire trouble. Or so he thought. This new Master at Arms seemed perfectly able to draw out his uncomfortableness till the last moment. He then listend to her talk about the Yard's morale. She was right, since he had come back the place had not seen as much activity. Most of the guardsmen and women were on active duty, either abroad on missions for the Tower or enrolled in the never ending task of keeping the peace in the city. Compared to most other places, Tar Valon was relatively free of civil strife, but what the peaceful merchant did not know was how back-breakingly hard it was to make that happen. These days everything was strained. The Guard had many new recruits but most of them lacked sufficient training, costing the Tower more than they made up for in manpower. Now with a reduced staff, and in the middle of reorganizing, the ttaining grounds were as disorganized as Visar felt his brain was on a bad day. Morale did need a boost. He raised an eyebrow at her proposal for a public match. He suspected this was a trap somehow, but there was no way to back down from such a worthy request, and that from a superior. She spoke wisdom; it wasn't as if he had been publically insubordinate to her woth the key issue. It would make more sense to try to bind the yards closer with any gesture that they could. He swallowed hs sense of unease as best he could and put on a brave smile. "I would be glad to face you in the ring, Master Kilrin. What time would you want to do this? And on what conditions? A public event for the whole Yard to watch? Till first hit, or a number of exchanges?" She would undoubtedly fill him in on what she intended. Why could he not relax around this woman? He wondered of he ever would. He had not see her fight but knew her to be a blademaster of considerable skill, probably better than he was, though they would see soon enough. He was not going to try to lose for the fact of her being his superior, that was for certain.
  15. (Ooc: my apologies for the loong wait!) Visar fenced mostly with his feet, dodging attacks that he could not easily block, and deterring other attacks with his staf's reach and speed before they could hit him. He was doing decently well against three, and he felt his grin sttengthen as his enjoyment of the foght grew. They were starting to figure him out, as well as trying different ways to defeat hom as a team. The one-two combination that Coraman and Rekinu pulled off was brilliant, and Visar counted himself lucky to escape that. And if Grey had struck just a moment or two sooner he might have had him. Exhilarated by the chalenge of the fight, Visar called a reset to make sure Grey was alright. Then it was time for more! He wondered if he had actaully strictly defended in the last exhange. Probably not strictly speaking. "Come now, you three almost had me! I will chase you down if you don't keep trying!" He yelled, and resumed his baiting guard. No one rushed forward foolhardy this time. They were learning. Rekinu and Coramon came at him together, and Grey circled to try to get him from behind. Visar whirled, struck out with his staff in a couple of long thrusts to ward Grey away, then closed to the real threat. Visar attacked first, feining, thrusting, trying to find an opening. But they were ready for him and managed to turn his point away, and inexorably closed in, forcing Visar to back up. He noticed that Rekinu was attacking as determined as ever, and the guardswoman was fighting with a passion Visar was glad to see, even if it meant she wanted to hit him very badly. What could he have done? He wondered, and grinned like an idiot. They continued to press him and although he managed a glancing blow or two they kept coming. The staff was the weapon, and if it didn't hit with enough force, it wouldn't stop the fight. The sword however, did not need such force to wound and maim, and was far more lethal for less force. Now where was that third attacker... Visar whirled but didn't see Grey behind him. Surprised, he whirled back, barely deflecting the two more experienced foghters. He saw an opening as Coraman just overextended in an effort to reach him, but before he could make his blow, he heard and felt a great, Thwap! On the back of his legs. Visar stumbled, seeing Grey crouched low with blade extended on his legs. That would have taken off his legs had these been sharp! The stun that the trainee had pulled that off prevented Visar from quickly countering to Grey's exposed head, and that was all the time needed for Rekinu to knock the staff out of one hand with a hit to Visar's wrist, and Coraman mercilessly came in for a chest strike that knocked the wind from him. Holding up his free hand to signal stop as Visar recovered his breath (and what remained of his dignity) he smiled at the three of them. "See? Of course it can be done." He laughed, slightly embarrased but not surprised. Few could stand against three, and those that did without a scratch were very, very lucky. "Would you like to continue, or shall i show some basics of the weapon for you all to practice? I'm fine for either, i think." In truth, that bruise to his leg would make him limp a little, and he still felt not quite himself from the blow to the ribs, but surely they would buy his bluff? -Visar Falmaien, ready for more!
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